Butte semi-weekly miner. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1886-1890, 1887-02-12


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With . reed R,,t them T knew INV narticnlsr
denart,oant thorouohlv 7 disnatched INV
hns;nes. in a connle Of honrs and killed The
rset Of the time With the charades and r;ddles
IN Tho MONDE nl,,stre 7 had. cot tn ha verv
clever With them: I used to send INV answer
and then have the glory of reading nv name
in tha naner. between T b Military Club Of
Terreo1,emineso and @Tbe 'Habitaes of the
Gaze de pEurope at Pithiviers."
Than the time snent at the Office was a sac-
r;fce made for INV dailv bread. Nv real life
BEGAN at 4 O'Clock. when. after washing INV
hands and hanging up NV old alpaca Office
coat. I sailed forth and walked away with
an even measured tread toward the distant
ouarter WHARF I lived. down the Boulevard
DIES Tnva]ides and the Boulevard Montpar-
On summer evenings especiallv it was de-
liqhtful. The slanting sun rays, at the amost
effective hour as the painters say, eilded tho
old trees. those that were cut down in that
horrible siege and replaced BY stupid NAPLES
with an iron grating round their roots. like a
door scraper. The trees we had then were
good old elms. good old lime trees. good old
chestnuts chat had been SLOWLY growing up
there since the time of Louis XIV-datine
back to the France Of former DAYS. when men
were patient. when they liked things to be
solid and lasting. when thew took their time
about planting a tree or founding an institu-
ton. How good it was to walk under their
stout branches. under their thick foliage. that
the sinking sun riddled through and through
with warm sparks!
BEFORE the railway station De rOuest there
was a halt. The waiter used to keen a table
for me next to the window on the first door
Of the little restaurant. and there 1 ate my
dinner slowly. watching the crowds pouring
ont from the trains from Versailles. the two
artillervmen exactly alike with the red
plumes in their shakos. WEIGHED down bv
their heavy trousers and holding up their
sword scabbards in their hands: the pairs Of
lovers. very tired with their days holiday,
carving great sheaves of wild flowers, and
the old botanist. with his gray beard, in dusty
CATERS and a straw hat, with his tin box
swinging at his back. When the evening
drew in I went and took my CUP of coffee in
the open air outside a cafe, and then, most
nights, I went home.
Who lives in it now, I wonder, my sky par
lor in the Rue d'Assas3 Some Philistine,
perhaps, who will have dishonored its walls
bv hanging them with chrome portraits of
n~oliticai men. In INV time it was only a Door
mans room, but it was furnished to my taste:
IL was the room of a dreamer. of a home bird.
and every flower of the paper on its wall held
the memory of a reverie. I had nv flute
there. NV pine. a thick CARPET. a great arm
chair with a slopinp back. verv comfortable
tn sit in before the fire reading and dreaming:
a shelf I had the books / know bv heart.
kindly skeptics. Montaiene and La Fontaine.
ord for gantlar moments Dickens. and m
each sid Of the looking glass nv beautiful
prints of the aCoucher de Ia Marie and the
aHasard he,,reux de ~pEscarpolette.n
It was delicious to wake up there in the
summer idled about the room in nv shirt
sloeves SMOKING nv 11rst nina. and watching
+ho rooka Az oY In a oolden s,,n raw thronoh
w;ndow thrown w;de onen. could see
the Green masse. Of the foliage in the Luxem-
honre the domes of the Pantheon. and the
Va1-de-Graca and the skv-a GREAT deal of
XIV. the sunnle swallows passed Backward and
forward continualiv. quite close to me. with
the little crv. Naa,ik, as If thew were wishing
cood morning Rnt the evenings were
still more exonisite-the starry evenings.
when after T had read a few pages and PLAYED
1itt1e Mozart IN nv 1nteI I leaned ont Of
window before ali the splendors Of the
listening to such SCRAPS of waltzes as